Dig In
by Lala Kate
Summary: Rival archaeologists spar at a dig site, fighting and embracing the heat in more ways than one.
1. Chapter 1

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Sweat dripped between her breasts, and she wished for the thousandth time that clouds would miraculously appear above them to dampen the unforgiving Sahara sun. The only blue in this desert, however, was to be found in a pair of eyes that looked all too pleased with themselves as they gazed back at her above an infuriating smirk. She replaced the cap on her canteen and stared back at the blasted nuisance of a man that riled her up everywhere. The wind splatted sand on her leg, but she refused to flinch, choosing instead to narrow her eyes as she faced off with him, all rolled-up shirtsleeves and yummy biceps he might be.

"This is my dig, Locksley," she stated, taking a step in his direction. If he thought he could intimidate her into leaving the burial site, he had another thing coming, this mister show-too-much-chest-by-leaving-a-few-buttons-undone historian "Go back to London and let a real archaeologist get back to work."

The bastard just grinned at her as he wiped his brow with his handkerchief, taking a step closer into her personal space.

"There's no need to hurl insults at each other, Dr. Mills," he countered, licking his lips a bit too slowly for her liking. "There's plenty of treasure for both of us unearth, I daresay."

His brows flickered in her direction, and she barked out an incredulous laugh.

"And what makes you think I'd like to share any of my treasure with you?"

He bit his lower lip, and she caught herself staring at his mouth.

"You didn't mind sharing your valuables with me the last time we met," he returned, making her feel even hotter than she had before. She tried to press back memories of what those teeth of his had done to her when they'd run into each other in Cairo two years ago after an evening of conversation, hummus, and too much alcohol, how his mouth had mapped out terrain that had both shocked and thrilled her, how she'd had to muffle her cries of pleasure into his mouth and shoulder, how she'd left teeth marks on his neck.

He caught her looking to see if the mark was still there and rubbed the spot gingerly.

"There's no evidence remaining," he said, leaning in just over her ear. "But we could remedy that tonight."

Her knees practically buckled, but she shoved him back, determined to stand her ground and not to let him get to her again.

"In your dreams, Locksley," she returned. "Now why don't you go pack up your things and move along to another site of interest."

He chuckled and shamelessly flashed those damned dimples in her direction.

"Why do that when there's so much that interests me right here, Dr. Mills?"

He reached out to cup her face, and strands of her resolve began to crumble into the desert sand. She was hot everywhere now, even in places she tried desperately not to think about, and a slow burn began to pulse between her legs as she remembered how glorious his face had felt in that very spot.

"You look flushed, Dr. Mills," he observed as he reached for his canteen. "Here. Help yourself to whatever you like."

"I can take care of myself, thank you," she insisted, opening her own canteen and taking a much needed sip of water. It was warm and somewhat metallic, but it was wet, the kind of wet she needed to help her push down the sort of wet that was distracting.

"So can I," he uttered. "But it's far more fulfilling when the right person is around to lend assistance, don't you think? Makes the payoff far more satisfying in the end."

She swallowed hard, doing her best to ignore the fact that her nipples were pressing against the restraints of her bra.

"Go play with your own tools," she ordered, earning herself a hearty laugh that carried across the dunes.

"I'd rather play with yours," he countered. She was fighting both a grin and arousal now and was thoroughly pissed off at the notion of being double-teamed by her own body.

"Why? Are yours not up to the task anymore?"

She tossed him a smirk practically bursting with satisfaction, and he stepped in close enough for her to feel an already half-baked erection as they both continued to bake under the sun.

"Mine tools are sharper than ever," he whispered, somehow making her shiver in the heat. "Top form, you might say."

"That's what you said two years ago," she countered, watching as his eyes dropped to the sand.

"As I remember, you had no complaints," he breathed, practically dripping with suggestion.

"As I remember, I had no chance to voice them," she shot back. "Since you disappeared before I had the chance to wake up."

He had the grace to look somewhat ashamed then, giving her a hard jolt of satisfaction.

"That was wrong of me," he admitted.

"No shit," she exclaimed. "Especially since you deliberately let me asleep so you could beat me to Dr. Anjabi's office to claim that map, the map to this site that was rightfully mine!"

He exhaled loudly and reached into his pocket, pulling out worn, brown paper he then pressed into her hand. She stared at it, her jaw dropping incredulously at this ridiculous and long-overdue gesture.

"Too little too late, Locksley," she said. "I'm already here, remember? And I found this tomb first-even without the map. I don't have to resort to thievery to get what I want."

Her chest heaved as he leaned in far too close, close enough for his body heat to practically knock her to the ground.

"Has it ever occurred to you, Regina, that I've been following you around for the past two years so I could return this to you properly? That perhaps I feel sorry for what I did?"

His nose bumped hers, and she couldn't breathe. His lips were too close, his sweat too personal.

"No," she admitted. "And I'm not sure I believe you-"

The rest of her statement was devoured by his mouth as he claimed hers in a fiery kiss, one full of tongue, arousal, and pent up passion, one that made her knees weak and her nipples hard. She melted into him, and his hands moved around to squeeze her ass, prompting her to moan into his mouth as his fingers began to stroke lazy circles over her derriere.

"Does that convince you?" he panted, his breathing as labored as her own as he drew back far enough to look her in the eyes. She couldn't formulate an answer-her head was too muddled, her nether regions too damp, so she shrugged, and he grinned as he stroked the side of her face in a gesture that felt intimate beyond words. "Come to my tent for dinner tonight," he whispered, allowing his fingers to slide into her hair just along her nape. "We can discuss how a partnership would benefit both of us-in more ways than one."

He backed away slowly and began his descent of the dune on which they'd been standing, and she watched him go, shaking her head at her own weakness when it came to this man. He was hard in all the right places, and kissing him felt like the best kind of sin, but he was arrogant and far too good at sneaking past her defenses.

The sun would set soon, temperatures would drop, and night would encompass this burial ground full of temptations, so she sighed as she strapped her canteen to her chest and reached into her back pocket to check the medallion once again. She sucked in air as she felt nothing there but material, not coincidentally in the exact spot where tricky fingers had been muddling her reason just moments ago. The medallion was the final key to the exact location of Amenhotep's tomb. It had taken two years of her life to track it down, had cost her half of her life savings, had required her to travel halfway around the world and back again to obtain it. But obtain it she had.

And now it was gone.

Hot anger rose from her toenails to her temples as she glared down at the thief who'd stolen more than a kiss, thus ensuring that she'd have no choice but to chase him straight into his tent. She swore under her breath as her nostrils flared and she uttered the name of the man who'd just bitten off far more than he'd bargained for tonight.

"Locksley.".


	2. Chapter 2

God, she was a vision.

Black hair just brushing her shoulders, red lips he knew tasted better than the most exquisite of wines, fair skin smattered with sun-kissed freckles in places he'd like to kiss himself.

Who was he kidding? He wanted to kiss all of her-every last inch of her as he'd been allowed to do only once in what felt like another lifetime.

"More wine?"

She was eyeballing him from across the low, small table in his tent, her body propped up by pillows, her blouse granting him a glimpse of the promise land buttoned up inside it as she held the bottle in his direction.

He extended his glass towards her, allowing her to refill his before doing the same with her own.

"This is good," she remarked with a quirk of her brow that hinted at what it cost her to do so. "Then again, selecting a good wine seems to be your only talent."

"That's not what you said in Cairo," he quipped, running his tongue over his lips, watching in satisfaction as her nipples became visible through her bra. God, he craved this woman, pined for her, burned for her with a fever he could neither explain nor was willing to admit. How he wanted her in his arms, in his bed, under his tongue, enveloping his body.

He just couldn't let her near his heart. Some valuables were too delicate to be handled by others, even if this particular other looked like sex on legs and smelled like a summer wildfire.

"We said a lot of things in Cairo," she stated, leaning forward, exposing more cleavage to his all too eager perusal. "Things I don't think either of us really meant."

"I meant every word," he said, reaching forward, daring to take her hand within his own, wondering if she'd sting him like a cornered scorpion for doing so. She didn't.

"Every word that talked me out of my clothes and the map that was rightfully mine," she hummed, turning her hand so that her fingernails were now toying with his palm. Damn, that felt good. "Yes, I'm sure they were sincere."

"They were," he breathed, leaning forward once more. "As was every word that was spoken between us in bed."

Her scent urged him closer, ever closer, her mere presence a drug he should in all likelihood avoid. But his addiction called, and he listened, sliding out of his seat around to her side of the table, tracing her fingers as her skin started to heat. She was his opium, a fact he both despised and adored, and he moved into her space deliberately, feeling her breath catch against his skin.

"Do you really think I'm going to let this happen again?"

He ignored her question as his nose traced a delicate path up her neck to her ear. She moaned, and he burned, liquid fire shooting outward from his cock to his extremities in five seconds flat.

"Don't you want it to happen again?" he whispered, one hand moving to trace patterns up and down her spine as his mouth hovered just above parted lips.

"What I want and what's good for me are two different things," she answered as her fingers moved into his hair and began toying with his scalp. Shit, he was going to come in his trousers if she kept up this sweet torture.

"That's a matter of opinion," he stated, pushing her gently down into the cushions, his chest making contact with her breasts, her pupils dilating as a hot hand traced her right outer thigh. "I happen to think we're pretty amazing together."

"That's because you're as hard as a rock," she returned, chuckling with him at her spot-on observation. "And I'm the only woman on this expedition."

"You're also the only woman I want in my bed," he said, her brow scrunching adorably at his words. "The only woman whose breasts I want in my mouth, whose legs I want to open…"

She grabbed him hard and kissed him messily, all tongue and teeth and grinding groins. He was combusing right on top of her, lost in places he didn't want to think about as small but strong fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

"I should hate you," she breathed as his tongue began to dip into the valley between her breasts.

"You probably should," he agreed as he rose up just enough to tug his shirt up and off of his body and began to focus on getting her out of her blouse. "But I'm glad you don't. Then I wouldn't be able to do this."

He found a nipple through her bra and sucked it with fervor, making her body arch off the pillows and into his own as her nails left marks on his back. She was soon topless and sweaty, and all rational thought left him as he allowed her to flip them over a perch herself right on top of his erection. She was a goddess, an ancient deity with powers he couldn't begin to fathom, and he hissed as her tongue traced a line from his navel to his nipple, his trousers now far too tight for comfort.

"Want these off?" she hummed, and he nodded, sucking in relief as all constraints were removed and he was allowed to burst free. She licked her lips at the sight of him naked, and he tugged her back up his body, needing to remove her trousers and underwear, desperate to stroke and sample the wet mysteries of her.

She moaned as he fingered her through her clothes, crawled over him until her breasts were right over his mouth, and he greedily claimed her other nipple, sucking on it with the gusto of a starving man, sweating hard as she began to rub her still-covered clit on his abdomen.

Her hands pulled his arms over his head, her nails doing things to him that should be illegal, and then her inner thighs were right above his mouth, teasing him through khaki fabric he wanted to rip off of her with force.

It was then he heard and felt the click.

She slid back up his torso wearing a smile of satisfaction he wanted to eat, and he tugged on his arms to no avail, understanding immediately that she'd gotten him.

Regina Mills had handcuffed him to his own tent post.

"Just what do you think you are doing?"

She laughed then, a throaty, sexy-as-hell sound, and she had the audacity to finger her own nipples as she leaned over his prostrate form, licked her lips and whispered into his open mouth.

"Taking back what's mine."

She moved back just enough so that she was straddling his now poker-straight penis, quirking an evil brow in his direction as she put two of her fingers in her mouth and sucked them before tracing them up and down his shaft.

"Check-mate, Locksley," she hummed before giving him a firm squeeze and standing to her feet. She found her medallion in his discarded pants pocket, and she examined it while still topless before leaning down to retrieve her bra and blouse, giving him a show he'd always remember and treasure in a way she could never understand. He wanted her now more than ever, was ready to explode on contact, and he wondered if he'd burst by simply watching her fondle her own breast again. But she dressed herself instead before picking up the nearly empty bottle of wine and taking a swig from it directly.

"Until next time," she stated, sauntering out of his tent and straight into his heart, taking the wine and medallion with her, leaving him to be discovered bound, naked and humiliated by his own men. Yet he grinned the grin of the satisfied, knowing he'd jerk himself off to thoughts of her later tonight once he'd been freed, knowing that tomorrow night he'd see her check-mate and raise the stakes between them even higher.

Christ, this woman was so bad for him. And he utterly adored her for it.

"Until next time, Miss Mills," he murmured before biting his lower lip and beginning to concoct a retaliatory scheme worthy of such an opponent.


End file.
